by Kelsey King
He drops the gun on the porch and moves down the steps toward me. I’m shaking, still rooted to the spot, and I can’t help but feel humiliated that at a time when I should have kept my wits about me, I failed to do anything.
Hunter reaches me, but instead of giving me the chastisement I no doubt deserve, he takes me in his arms and holds me against him. I collapse against him, my limbs trembling, but I realize that his are too. His whole body is shaking as if he’s just had the scare of his life. I feel Cocoa brush up against us, whining softly, but Hunter holds me tight—so tight it’s hard to breathe—as if he’s afraid if he loosens his grip I might slip away.
At last, he runs a hand under my chin and guides my face up to look at him. He’s gone pale, and I realize we’re both breathing heavy from the rush of adrenaline. But as we stare into each other’s eyes, I realize the rush isn’t just from my brush with death.
“Are you alright?” he finally asks.
I don’t feel particularly okay, but the bear is dead, lying in a heap, not even twitching. The danger is past, and I’m as safe as I’ve ever been in these woods with Hunter holding me. I look up into his eyes and find it’s the steadiness of his arms around me that makes me feel safe.
“Yes,” I say. “Th-thank you.”
I expect him to stammer something awkward in response, but instead, his gaze intensifies, and his eyes drift down to my lips. The adrenaline is ebbing, and a wave of desire washes over me, taking its place. I want him—want more of him than he seemed willing to give me. I’m trying to find the words to say this in a way that doesn’t sound desperate or trite or, well, awkward and more awkward, but for once, Hunter seems to know what he’s doing.
His mouth closes on mine, and he’s kissing me, deeply and passionately, like I’ve never been kissed before in my life. I feel lost in him like we’ve wandered into a dark part of the woods from which I never care to emerge. My hands move up to his neck, holding onto him tight, and I’m oblivious to everything that isn’t him, this, us.
Hunter lifts me off the ground, holding me against him as he kisses me. My hands slide up his chest, feeling each one of his taut muscles, and eliciting a soft groan.
I smile and look into his eyes again, and this time I see unmistakable desire reflected back at me.
“Take me inside,” I say.
He looks at me intently, as if he’s trying to discern what I mean. But my body burns against his, and I don’t think it’ll take him long to figure it out.
And it doesn’t.
He kisses me again, sets me back on my feet, and pulls me into the house. I spare a single thought for the bear—I feel terrible that it had to lose its life just for happening to be here—but all are secondary to the way my skin burns everywhere Hunter touches me. We only make it to the entryway before I begin working on the buttons of his shirt. Cocoa follows us in looking utterly confused and collapses on her bed in the corner as Hunter presses me against the wall, our mouths working together. He lifts my t-shirt away from my waist, his calloused fingers running over my soft skin.
Shivers run up my spine, and I gasp. I’m overcome with how much I want him—it’s more than just wanting sex. I want to be with him, stay with him here in this haven in the woods, just the two of us making a home and a life far away from the rest of the world.
I want to stay here, and if that means that we both have to commit to forever together even though we’ve only barely met, so be it. At this moment, it feels like a small price to pay for this little slice of heaven.
I pull his shirt open and press against him, feeling his warm skin against mine. He pulls my shirt up and over my head, and I tug him toward the stairs, toward his bedroom. We barely get to the stairwell before we’re all over each other again, me sitting on a higher stair with my legs around his waist, him kissing the tops of my breasts as I gasp and arch my back. I run my fingers through his hair, feeling his hands holding me tight. This is everything I want, everything I need.
8
Hunter
My head swims as Sophia and I kiss on the stairs, her legs around my waist, our bodies rubbing against each other in ways that make me burn for her. She must be able to feel me, hard against her, but she isn’t pulling back.
Quite the opposite. As my lips graze her breasts, she arches back, gasping, and I’m consumed by a desire I haven’t felt in longer than I care to admit.
I could’ve lost her. I’d warned her about bears in the woods, but they come around so rarely, and the noise almost always scares them off. She and Cocoa should’ve been making plenty of that, but God, that moment when the bear charged her; I thought that was the end.
I almost lost her, and this terrifies me more than I thought it would. Any decent person would want to protect her from that animal, and now I’m going to have to answer to a ranger for it. But this is more than that.
It would tear me up to lose her.
Her hand slips below the waistband of my slacks, and I can’t take it anymore. I scoop her up into my arms and carry her up the stairs and into my bedroom.
Sophia beams up at me as I lay her on the bed. Her bra is pale pink and lacy, and I wonder if she always wears such delicate underwear or if she were hoping this would eventually happen.
I haven’t been able to bring myself to hope. This is my home, and she’d come such a long way. I didn’t want to come on too strong, to make her feel like I expect something of her.
But these last few nights, lying in this bed, knowing she was doing the same across the hall, wondering if she was imagining what it would be like to lie beside each other, wondering how she would react if I invited her to spend the night with me…it’s made my body ache with a longing I haven’t felt in years. I’ve spent hours in the dark, hoping she might sneak into my bed, wanting to invite her in even just to sleep beside her, and at the same time knowing I’d want so much more than that.
We look at each other, and then suddenly, Sophia giggles. I smile at her as her giggling reaches a fever pitch. “What?” I ask finally.
She shakes her head. “It’s just the absurdity of the whole situation. Not long ago I was back home, working at the market, worried about paying bills, still living in the apartment I shared with my mother. Normal life. And now here I am in the middle of nowhere with you, in America, of all places, being saved from a charging bear by a man with a shotgun. Which I didn’t know you had, by the way, but you seem to know how to use it.”
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” I ask. I know a lot of people are uncomfortable with guns. In Europe, I hear it’s even truer than it is here.
She shakes her head. “You’ve just saved my life with that thing, so I believe it would be foolish of me to protest to its existence.”
I smile. “I live in bear country. I carry it with me if I wander too far from the house, but usually, they don’t come that close.” I look out the window, at the tops of the trees. “I’ve never enjoyed killing things, but I can put a sick deer out of its misery, or defend myself if I need to.”
Sophia lifts her legs around my waist, squeezing my hips between her thighs. “Or defend me.”
I look down at her, and I’m struck again by how beautiful she is. Her strawberry hair falls around her shoulders on the comforter; her face just flushed enough to add color to her cheeks. I run one hand up her thigh, eliciting a small shudder. I search for what to say next, afraid that the moment is passing us by, that the awkwardness is going to return.
But then she runs her hand around my waist, pulling me down toward her. I kiss her again, long and deep, and then unbutton her jeans and slide them off. She does the same with my own, and we’re lying against each other in nothing but our underwear. Sophia wraps her legs around me again, and there are only thin layers of cotton between us.
“You’re alright with this?” I ask her.
“Hunter,” she says, and I love the sound of my name when she says it. “This was my idea.”
I laugh and draw her closer, run my
teeth gently up the outside of her ear, and then reach around to release the hook to her bra.
Her breasts are perfect, milky white and articulate, and I run a thumb over one of her nipples, eliciting a groan. My fingers brush against her silver star necklace, and I take it in my palm.
“Why do you wear this?” I ask. “You never seem to take it off.”
“My mother gave it to me,” she says softly. “She always called me her shining star.”
I bend down and kiss her collarbone beneath it, and she gasps. She shifts her hips slightly, rubbing against me, and I shift mine back in return. We build into a rhythm, and my vision starts to blur from the arousal and anticipation. Her hand slides into my boxers, running the length of me, and all I want in the world is to be inside her, to come inside her.
“Do you have a condom?” she asks, and I smile and retrieve one from the drawer of my nightstand. I wasn’t about to force myself on her, but I also didn’t think it wise to invite a woman into my home with the prospect of marrying her and not take proper precautions. I tear open the condom and slide it on, and Sophia takes my face in her palms and looks me in the eye.
I’m struck by the wonder of being here with her. I’ve been with other women but never has it felt so unprecedented and surprising. What began in a rush of adrenaline has faded into a glorious ache and longing, not just for sex, but for everything.
I want you, I mean to say, but when I open my mouth what comes out is different. “I love you,” I say, and her eyes widen, and she laughs.
Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. It sounds like a line, even though I’m increasingly sure that it isn’t, and now—
Sophia props herself up on her elbows and kisses me hungrily. I slide off her panties, and we’re pressing together, nothing between us. Our mouths part and we both groan in tandem.
And then finally, miraculously, I’m inside her, and we’re moving together, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. She calls my name, and I whisper hers, and we’re building together until I’m blinded to everything but the grand crescendo of our bodies breaking apart as we finish together.
We lie on top of the covers; Sophia nestled perfectly in my arms, as we both catch our breath. I bring one hand up and stroke the outside of her breast, and she closes her eyes, her hair falling naturally across my chest.
And then I remember what I said. It probably sounded like I was just trying to seal the deal, though I was already wearing the damn condom, so I don’t know why I would have needed to. I love you. Those words feel right, and I’m confident that I meant them. I’m not sure what to say now. Should I say that it’s okay if she doesn’t feel the same? Because it doesn’t feel okay. It feels like if she decides she could never love me and goes back to Ireland and I never see her again that my life will be empty, desolate, in a way that I never realized it was. I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.
God, is that what I should say?
“What do we do about the bear?” Sophia asks.
I clear my throat. “I’ll call a ranger. They’ll come up and take a report and have animal services haul the body away. They’ll investigate, make sure everything lines up with our story.”
Sophia snuggles closer. “Will you get in trouble?”
“No. It’s illegal to hunt bear, but you can kill just about anything that threatens your life. And you weren’t doing anything wrong, just throwing a ball for the dog.” I hold her tight in my arms.
That reminds me…I look up to see Cocoa melted into a golden puddle in the doorway. She looks up when she sees me watching, and wags her tail tentatively.
I really need to teach that damn dog to run in the face of danger, but I’m not sure there’s any amount of training that would override her instinct to protect her own. I’m just glad that this time she made it out unscathed.
“Where’d you learn how to shoot like that?” Sophia asks.
“Practice,” I say. “With a shotgun, you don’t have to be as accurate, but I don’t like wandering off in the brush with no way to defend myself. At least not far. I keep it locked up the rest of the time, though. I’m no gun nut.”
She nods. “Clearly it’s necessary. And I need to learn how to take care of myself, obviously. All I could do was stand there and freeze.”
“I can order you some pepper spray,” I tell her. “Works pretty good on a charging bear.”
She smiles. “You think I’m likely to have another encounter in the next two and a half weeks? Just how many bears live on your mountain?”
I can’t breathe. I don’t want to make her feel like she’s obligated to me. Yeah, I paid for her to come over here, let her make herself at home in the house, order things to make her comfortable. But she doesn’t owe me anything. She can go back to Ireland if she wants.
I just don’t want her to, and I know what that means.
“Do you think you’ll want to leave?” I find myself asking.
She’s quiet for a moment. “No. Do you think you’ll want me to?”
“No,” I blurt out.
We both hold each other, and I look out the window and see a blue jay watching us curiously from a pine tree. I suppose he didn’t have to go to much effort to see us.
I need to ask her to marry me, beg her to stay here and be my wife. But the words catch in my throat, and in the end, it’s Sophia who’s brave.
“If you wanted, I’d marry you and stay here with you.”
My mind fills with a heady elation, not unlike the climax we’ve just experienced. “Yeah?” I ask.
Sophia giggles again, though I’m not sure whether it’s at the breathlessness of my voice, or the absurdity of it all, agreeing to marry someone you hardly know.
Though I feel like I do know her, and what’s more, I feel like I want to know everything there is to know about her. I’ve never met a woman I’d be willing to change my habits for. However, if I need to cut back on my work hours, or let her take on some of the work—so she can feel a part of my life—I could bend my habits to suit her needs, which was never something I thought I’d want to do for anyone.
“Yeah,” Sophia says. “If you want.”
“Yes. Yes, I do. I’d be honored to have you as my wife, Sophia. And I’d promise to make you happy for the rest of your life if you allowed me to.”
She props herself up on her hands and kisses me again, and my head is swimming with the delicious presence of Sophia, the woman I’m in love with, the woman I want in my life until the end of my days. I smile against her lips. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.
I think Sophia agrees, because she sits up on top of me, her knees on either side of my hips, and soon I’m recovering, and then we’re moving together, making love all over again.
And I never, ever want it to stop.
I call my mother from the bedroom the next morning, while Sophia is poking through my dresser and making room for her things from the other room. She has boxes in Ireland, she says, but not many, and I give her my credit card so she can arrange to have them sent over as soon as possible. My whole body is sore from yesterday afternoon, and last night, and this morning, but we’re both buzzing around with this high that I know comes from being together.
And the prospect that it isn’t going to end.
“Hey, Mom,” I say when she answers from her hospital room. Her voice sounds hoarse, but she also sounds alert, which is good, I suppose, but also makes her more likely to question what I’m about to tell her.
“Sophia and I have decided to get married,” I say. “We could plan a big thing, but I really want you to be there, so we were thinking maybe we’d do something small. In the hospital chapel, even. We could be married this week, so you’ll still be in good health.”
God, I’m babbling. She’s going to suspect that this isn’t a typical situation, and then she’s going to figure it out, and think that this whole thing is a trick or some sleazy thing I’m doing for sex when nothing could be further from the truth.<
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I think Sophia senses my nervousness—not hard since she heard my babbling—and she moves toward me and takes my hand. She’s dressed, which is a pity, while I’m wearing nothing but my boxers, but holding her hand feels natural, and it’s comforting. I wonder where all the awkwardness has gone.
“Really?” Mom says. “So you’re in love with her?”
“Yes,” I say matter-of-factly. My palms start to sweat. Sophia still hasn’t said it back, though I suppose that saying she wants to get married was a pretty big admission, so maybe I shouldn’t worry, but I do anyway.
“I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else,” I say, and Sophia smiles up at me, though there’s some hesitation in her eyes. She’s nervous about something, too, though I’m not entirely sure what it is.
“That’s wonderful,” Mom says. “Though I’d hate to deprive her of a beautiful wedding. Maybe we could go halfway and plan something nice next month. I can leave the hospital for one day.”
I take a deep breath. Sophia and I can’t wait that long; we barely have weeks before she’ll need to leave the country if she’s not married to a US citizen. Besides, I’m not sure that my mother’s health is going to hold that long, even if she thinks so.
I don’t want to tell her that. I’m half-thinking that if Mom insists on this, we can plan a wedding next month and just go to a courthouse between now and then. It’s not like my mother would have to know.
“I don’t know, Mom,” I say. “I don’t think either of us is the big wedding type. We’d really rather get married on Sunday if that’s alright with you.”
“Hmm,” Mom says. “You’ve always been an impatient one, but I’m certainly not going to tell you no.”
I smile. We have plenty of time to find some clothes to wear—not full wedding attire, perhaps, but something nice.
“Thanks, Mom. I’m so glad you’re going to be there,” I tell her, and I mean it with my full heart.
Mom laughs. “Well if you’re coming to me, I hardly have a choice!” I can tell from her tone that she’s happy. We chat for a few more minutes—she has a lot more questions about Sophia now that she’s going to be her daughter-in-law, and I manage to get through those okay. And then we say goodbye, and I hang up the phone.